


Tren Perido a Casa

by TA_Hybrid



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And their origins, Awkward Spanish(please feel free to correct it!), Denial is more than a river, Discrimination, Edge of the Land of the Dead, Eldritch Horrors, Empathy, Existential Issues, F/M, Families of Choice, Gen, Ghosts, Health Issues, Hector is a DAD, LGBT+, Murphy's Law, Mythology - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Paperwork Failure, Poltergeists, Prepare for some pain, Superflous References, Trains, Trauma to Share, Underworld, Various Afterlives, mental issues, self indulgent, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 22:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14703534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TA_Hybrid/pseuds/TA_Hybrid
Summary: It was the Last Train, or maybe the First of the day? But he never caught that train, he couldn't catch that train. Opportunity stolen from him by a sharp pain in his stomach.But he still caught a train, a train that was supposed to take him to the next destination... But he never arrived there. Instead lost, in another afterlife entirely. At the very edge of the Realm of the Dead, where the barrier was barely a presence.





	Tren Perido a Casa

**Author's Note:**

> (Also the title should mean Lost Train Home)
> 
> It was born from a Wold-Building conversation/discussion, and then plot happened. So here we go. An alternate universe, and world building...
> 
> Mostly world-building.

He wakes up...  _dead_.

Initially, once the pain fades there is only darkness. Darkness that stretches on for an innumerable amount of time. It's not uncomfortable, in fact the darkness is a welcome relief really. A comfort if anything, peace after the sharp, stabbing pain that had been tearing him apart from the inside out. It's a relief, that he no longer has to feel such pain radiating from his stomach. He never knew food poisoning could be so  _agonising_.

After that, the all-encompassing darkness is soothing. Relaxing even if he doesn't know where it holds him, where he is. He finds that he doesn't really need to know either, there is only himself and the darkness.

So he merely floats, at peace.

Abruptly there's a disturbance, the bright flare of a light and he finds himself recoiling. Pulling back automatically, raising one arm up to shield himself from the glare. After a couple of blinks it's not quite so intense, and... there's a draw to the light.

Some sort of whispering voice in the back of his mind that edges him forwards. Prompts him to walk, to move into the bright light and out of the darkness. It's subtle and quiet, like a gentle tug on his wrist. Not forceful but persistent, and slowly he finds himself moving.

Limbs feeling jerky and weird, movement stilted as if he's been asleep for far too long. Sluggishly, awkwardly he walks. One step, two, three, as he steps forwards his movements ease up. Going from stilted to smooth and around him the darkness begins to pull back. Eventually it leaves him in a dimly lit hall, a hall that gets lighter and lighter the further he walks.

Ahead of him there's a door.

He hesitates for a moment in front of the door, trying in vain to read the words printed above the glass window. Before narrowing his eyes, peering at the frosty glass, unable to see into the room beyond.

Yet he finds that there is no fear.

No real reason to hesitate... although there's a nagging voice in the back of his head, he should be questioning this more. Yet it only feels natural to reach one arm out for the door. A hand stretching wide before curling around the handle and-

He steps into a bustling hub of activity.

There's a moment where he can only stand there, overwhelmed by all the sounds and sights that are assaulting him. Voices calling across the room, the shuffle of papers, clicking of typewriters, a bursting noise in the distance, ringing. And of course there's movement, people pushing around trolleys of papers, people carrying papers, or peering over in his direction, others who're scrambling around, darting across the room.

It's almost as if they're all racing to meet a deadline.

But there's something off about the scene, and it takes him a few moments of overwhelmed staring to realize what it is.

Everyone around him, all the workers, all those who're in the room. They're all merely bones, skeletons. Without their flesh or blood. Before he can respond that that realization, slump or shriek or anything, he's being shuffled along himself. Pulled briskly out of the doorway, by someone making a tutting sound, a weird clicking noise. Behind him someone else steps forwards, entering through the now clear doorway.

He makes a sound of protest, instinctively pulling back, raising an arm up to ask-

His arm freezes partially raised, and his eyes go very, very wide. White, not a single speck of the familiar tanned skin he's come to associate with his hands. He wriggles his fingers, watching each separate piece move, curling them up, those are his  _bones_. His hands are bones. But he can't get any more freaked out than a slight stumble, the automatic hitching of his breath and that widening of his eyes.

He's quickly tugged along, pulled by the right arm by someone in a uniform.

A skeleton in a uniform, his head snaps up. And he dimply registers that they have a name-tagged pinned to their shirt, just beneath the lapels. But he's face to face with a skull, frowning at him and he's bones, and-

He screams.

The realization ploughs into him. All at once, crashing down over his head and he recoils. Scrambling backwards to the tune of unheard protests. Shaking his head he can only splutter out denials. Words that he can barely hear himself speaking.

_He's DEAD!_

All the skeletons, the light, the passage. The fact that he also seems to be a skeleton.

There's a tremble that runs through him, as he frantically, in a near desperate state finds his hands patting down his own body. His charro suit hangs far looser than it should, and he can count his own ribs, the area where before there had been such pain now there is only air. His face is a bit harder, sharper and he's missing the defining features. His nose and ears gone.

"Señor, señor por favor-" he's back to screaming as the uniformed skeleton opposite him raises their hands up in a placating manor. An action that does absolutely nothing to help him; he desperately shakes his head, stepping backwards and away, ribcage heaving. All the worker can do is let out a weary sigh. "Por favor... calmarse señor!"

"No, No! I can't be-"

"Dead?" they huff, shaking their skull. "Lo siento señor... I'm afraid that you are dead." he shakes his own skull still in denial, it's impossible. But he's acutely aware of how his suit is hanging off him, now slightly too big for his reduced frame... Although it's not slipping off him or anything, but it's awkward.

He's reduced to shaking, his screams having run out. The shivers are enough to make his bones rattle. The sound has a certain melody, distantly reminding him of the rattle of a pair of maracas. But that's not right, it's only a loose relation. Not really similar at all, but it's all that his overwhelmed mind can think.

A wild connection.

A strangled sound breaks from his throat, and he clutches desperately at his arms, hugging himself.

"How... this... It can't be possible!" his eyes are desperately searching. Trying to find any flaw in the visage of the other's skull. All they can find is apologies, distant pity, and sadness. Sorrow for him. "I-I can't be dead! It's not..." he trails off, eyes widening, the pain, the sickness. "No..." it's a breath and his hands drop, moving to clutch at a stomach that's no longer there.

It doesn't hurt anymore, but the memory of the agony still causes a grimace to cover his skull, a shudder going up and down his spine.  _Food poisoning_ , the Chorizo!

"NO!" It's almost a shout, and he's back to shaking his head. Wondering exactly how bad that chorizo had been, for it to have made him sick enough to cause his death... and... "The Train! It was right there... I was-"

A keening sound cuts him off, and it takes him a moment to realize that it's coming from him. Dropping down, and curling in on himself, because the realization tears at him. Clawing at the edges of the broken promise that it represents.

_He's never going home again!_

"Señor, por favor..." the stranger is there, kneeling by him, yet more apologies in their brown eyes. "Lo siento. But right now we need to get you all sorted. The trains don't wait forever, and there's a rather large amount of paperwork to get through first to be sure you end up in the right place. Vamos!"

He lets them pull him along, dull resignation filling his own eyes. He doesn't know how many corridors they lead him down, only dimply registering that they're passing over skeletons, some of who give him pitying looks, others who just keep hurrying on to their own destinations. Eventually he's pushed into a room, the stranger nervously standing in the doorway for a moment, glancing at him before running a hand through their hair.

"First... uh there's this... It might be a bit shocking but-" they cut themself off. "It's normal, I assure you señor! Everyone goes through it... And right afterwards we can get to the paperwork... just..." they take a breath, and motion to the single chair in the middle of the room. "Would you please take a seat here for a moment or two, I promise it won't hurt"

He's immediately suspicious, jerking his head around to stare at them, eyes narrowing and mouth pressing itself into a line, arms crossing and they can only give him a strained uncomfortable grin, motioning again to the seat. Seeing no other real option he relents, sighing and nervously stepping towards the seat, settling on it, and almost immediately slumping.

The other makes no further comments, only letting out a relieved sigh, and glancing around the room somewhat nervously.

"Gracias señor, your... your assigned Death Guidance Counsellor will be with you momentarily..." they pause at the door. "Please wait here!" Without another seconds hesitation they're gone, and the door shuts with a click that seems almost too final. It leaves him alone in the empty room, and gives him a moment to observe it. There are only three walls really, plain, white, and there's a plush flooring, it looks soft and comfortable, but what's disconcerting is when he leans back slightly and peers behind him. What should be a wall is just a window, and it peers into darkness.

An abyss.

Emptiness, bar a flash of light every now and again, periodically. The fact that it's behind him is uncomfortable, and he finds himself shifting on the chair. Squirming with a prickling feeling up and down his spine, abruptly there's this jolt and he's sitting ramrod straight, staring dead ahead, his mind screaming at him to not turn around. A light flares from somewhere behind him and there's a weird sound that he can't quite define. Obscene, and discordant, it makes him grit his teeth, hands curling into the material of his pants even as his mind continues to scream at him. The light isn't white, it's more of a weird blue colour and seems to leave lines on the wall, scrolling up and down, moving and roving about the room.

It feels like it's going right through him, and there's a tingle over his bones, a flare in his skull.

A flash, glimpses of his life, and the strange sound recedes, accompanied by a beeping and a grumbling sound. A rumble and he feels the floor shift, before the door is turning once more. A different skeleton peering in at him, barely glancing beyond him towards the window.

"H-Hola..." the skeleton says, hand nervously curling into the wood of the door, and gaze firmly fixed on him. "I'm José, I'll be your Death Guidance Counsellor today..." the skeleton says, before waving him out of the room. As the door shuts behind him, he's almost sure that he can hear some kind of rumbling bubbling sound, a puff of air maybe. Whatever it is it only seems to make the already nervous skeleton guiding him more nervous, wringing his hands together and glancing back at him, almost as though scared he'd just disappear.

He's lead to another room, this more like a traditional office, he's sat at the desk there, and handed a quill. He blinks at it, for a moment bewildered before a stack of paperwork is literally dropped with a poof sound onto the desk in front of him. It's enough to make him yelp, balking at the height of the stack.

Across from him José moves across to a filing cabinet, flicking through files with his fingers, before pulling one out and turning around to face him. The poor guy is saying something, opening the file and peering through it with a look of concentration but the words are lose as he stares at the pile of paperwork that he apparently has to get through. He finds himself trembling slightly, with no idea where he's supposed to begin with any of it.

Seems that they really weren't exaggerating when they said that there was a lot to get through though.

He's brought back into focus by the sound of José clearing his throat. The skeleton suddenly right beside him, the file on the desk and he peeks at it. Not entirely understanding the information being presented. Something about packets? Tickets, and trains. José clears his throat again, tapping some of the paperwork and if he'd still had skin he would have flushed as the man moves around and shakes his head.

"Venga, no tenemos todo el día. You're not the only person who died today you know! We have a lot of people to get through." he rolls his eyes at the tone from the other man. But he pulls the paperwork down, and hums lightly under his breath as he struggles to puzzle his way through it, José being more or less unhelpful, only staying in the room with him.

Some of it isn't that hard to figure out, with some parts already filled in. Date of Death, Time of Death, Place of Death... that's already filled out for him, along with the sections for his next destination, or, at least he thinks that's what it's talking about. There's a lot of information there that's somewhat useless, talking about the workings of the afterlife and then ending with yes or no questions, and small boxes for him to tick.

Still he works his way through the pile.

By the end his hand hurts. Non-existent muscles complaining from all the writing and checking and circling he's being doing. He's not entirely sure that he's filled everything out properly, since he skipped some of the sections, mostly the ones that he didn't fully understand and José wasn't any help with. The other skeleton mostly shrugged and left him to it, most unhelpful. But he's finished now.

But he's still only just barely finished writing his signature on the last line on the last page before he's being rushed down yet more halls. Away from that room as José prattles on about something before tugging him into a dark room and pausing.

"Stand over there please..." he's directed to stand in front of a plain grey painted wall. "This... this might take a while..." José winces, as another strange skeleton steps in. Parchment and charcoal in hand. He has to stand, as they sketch him, or at the very least sketch his skull. Once done, José and the stranger nod to one another and he can only blink, tiredly watching them leave. "Come on then... to the station..."

He follows. Because what else could he do?

More corridors. Winding and twisting, leading him who knows where. He's following on automatic really; but his mind is far away on the paperwork, what it all means and... back home where he wants to be. Eventually though, he's brought back to reality, the shrill whistle of a train echoing in his skull and he winces. They're standing on a platform, a ticket is pushed into his hand, and José is waving him forwards. It's a station, more of a terminal really.

There are skeletons all around him, in various states. There are some grabbing at anyone with a uniform, pleading, begging to go back, to go home. There are those who're sitting silently in acceptance, and he can see a few who're just staring blankly, or on the ground breaking down. He shudders when he sees smaller skeletons in the crowd though, children. Yet even with the crowd around him, there's constant motion. People coming and going, yet more people arriving, and leaving.

Leaving on trains.

He raises his head and stares, the trains are odd, a bit sleeker than the ones he's familiar with. Streamlined, kept neat, yet still there are bells and whistles. People calling out names, shuffling people onto the train, or preventing them from boarding. Tickets are presented and checked, and-

"Hector Rivera!"

He startles at the sound of his name, spinning around and searching for whoever called. His feet move him in vaguely the right direction and he's met by a smiling conductor. The man practically beaming, as he silently holds up the ticket that had been pushed into his hand. In short order he's shuffled onto the train for himself, and into one of the carriages. Settled in opposite what looks to be a couple.

At least he's assuming so by how close to one another they remain seated. And his eyes dart down, seeing their interlocked hands. There's a pain somewhere in his ribcage at the sight, and he shivers, arms curling around himself.

"ALL ABOARD!" A shrill whistle sounds and there's a jerk as the train begins to move. A slight swaying, and he finds himself peering out of the window and watching as the terminal gets further and further away. Eventually swallowed up by the encompassing darkness around them.

He's... he's on a train.

 _But it's the wrong one_.

There's a sniff, and even without a nose he finds himself rubbing a hand up and over the area. A second sniff as the train keeps moving, and there's an odd sort of pressure building up at the edges of his eye sockets. He pulls his legs up, the ache hitting him all at once, and buries his skull against them. His whole body is shaking, creating a weird rattling harmony in his mourning.

Mourning his chance to go home, his  _last chance_  stolen by death.

He won't get to see his family again, not for a long time. Dia de Muertos is so far away... He won't get to see his daughter again, scoop her up in his arms and swing her around in a happy greeting. He won't be able to sweep his wonderful wife up in a hug either, or kiss her tenderly. He won't be dodging any thrown boots for his idiocy, for leaving. He won't have to apologise and explain that she was right, the tour was a bad idea. He won't get that chance...

He doesn't know how long he mourns, but eventually he raises his skull back up.

And the air rushes out of his non-existent lungs at the sight just beyond the carriage windows. The darkness fades away, shifting to a new landscape. A world that he could never imagine seeing before. History supporting the present. Buildings raising up out of the darkness, into towering winding streets. He moves to the window, staring with wide eyes, scanning every detail, seeing the spiralling towers each of them telling a story he could never possibly comprehend in its entirety.

Among the buildings are skeletons, in all kinds of different clothing, from eras he can't name, times and worlds he's never been to.

It's exciting, and enough to drive his grief away to be replaced full throttle by awe.

"Don't take it all in at once..." he startles slightly, dipping his skull and peering at the two across from him. One of them shakes her head. "You might hurt yourself"

"Ahh... lo siento..." he awkwardly laughs, rubbing the back of his skull sheepishly before giving one last curious glance out the window, the train is slowing. Slowing before it stops. Names are called, people standing up from other carriages before they're being herded off. A station, with a name above it he can't quite read. Not for a lack of trying though, it's just in some other language, and he can't read it.

He wants to ask, to find out more, but before he can there's another shrill whistle and the train is already pulling away. Leaving the station behind and once more plunging into darkness.

It sets a pattern really. The train travels through darkness until it reaches another station, and each station is as unique as those who leave the train there.

From gilded gates and pathways, to winding twisting streets, a forest scene, and he finds himself eagerly moving to the window as the train slows each time. Growing more and more curious about where he might be heading, which stop might be his.

Slowly, the train is getting emptier and emptier. With each stop there are less and less people on the train, and it's actually somewhat anxiety inducing the more stations that they go through without hearing his name called. Eventually, after who knows how many stops, the train around him feels mostly empty. As if there are only a handful of people still aboard. He taps a hand against his leg as the whistle blows and they leave the latest station... Beside a giant lake or something, with boats waiting to carry people across. Everyone who had gotten off had looked distinctly nervous he'd noticed, and all had odd looking coins.

Still he hasn't been called, and it's uncomfortable. He frowns, shifting and across from him the couple both look sympathetic, one of them reaching out to him. As though to reassure him that surely his stop would be soon; that's about when the whole train shudders. Everything rocks and his hands are digging into the seat automatically his skull whipping around trying to figure out what's going on.

There's a squealing sound, the trains wheels and everything just lurches. The two across from him letting out sounds that he's sure must be swears, but he's never heard them before. There's a voice echoing overhead but he can't quite understand the words, can't quite hear them as the train jolts, slowing almost to a stop before almost painfully beginning to move once more.

It feels unstable.

Like the whole thing would fall apart at any moment. Beyond their carriage he can hear the few other skeletons, there are confused voices asking about what's going on. Again there's a lurch of the train, just as it's picked up speed once more, and the world beyond the window dips back into the initial darkness of the void. But for only a moment.

A flash.

There's a sickly green glow, a sky overhead, and in the distance skeletons with green glowing on their bones. A rocky spiky environment that looks dull and empty, a flash, and the train is hurtling through a realm that swirls green, and there are startled figures and people around them, darting out of the way of the train.

But they're not skeletons.

"Is... is this normal?" he finds himself asking as there's another lurch of the carriage, his carriage mates sliding together and clinging to one another. There's a loud shrieking sound, like an improperly tuned radio blasting static and across from him one of the two skeleton's raises their hands up to cover over non-existent ears. He wants to do the same, as the world around them shifts again.

Darkness, once more they're running through darkness.

With a voice echoing over their heads that they need to remain calm and in their seats, the issue was being sorted, they just needed to remain calm.

Another lurch and the green around them swirls into blue, and there's a sound that's haunting. A growly, echoing sound, and he frowns confused, because what in the world.

A red glow lights up around them, and he startles to see what looks like it might be a giant eye at the window, as the carriage shakes again, before the giant thing moves on, and the train just continues. Behind him, from the couple he can hear hushed words, said quickly, recited like a prayer.

Abruptly they're pulling in somewhere else. A new station.

"Soteris Alypius & Metilia Alypius!" the two across from him look up, their skulls raising to view the figure in the doorway. Holding a clipboard and frowning down at it. "Your family is waiting!" the skeleton in the doorway says and they both nod, standing up and leaving him alone in the carriage. He moves to the window even before the train begins to move once more, seeking them out. It's difficult to spot them in the throng, but he eventually does. Talking to someone else in a uniform, they look up and almost tentatively he offers a smile and wave.

As the station blurs away into the background the train again lurches. And there's a high pitched sound that hurts, forcing him to clamp his hands over where his big ears used to be. There's a siren going off, and something is wrong.

_Something is wrong._

Another lurch, and he's yelping as the whole carriage swings, there's shouting from other carriages and again a voice overhead telling everyone to please remain calm and in their seats. But he can only feel a chill as the swaying continues and there's a harsh grinding sound...

The carriage isn't quite on the tracks...

The realization comes when he hears someone screaming, and feels the carriage swing out. Out and across, into the expanse of darkness that they have once again been forced to pass through. Or maybe it's just the natural transitional space that the train goes through, he's not sure. But still, this can't be normal, it can't be right. Because the carriage feels loose, unsafe.

It's tilting, rolling over, as if it were going to fall off and into the darkness.

Another jolt, and he scrambles, all flailing limbs and jerky movements, until he's clinging to the entryway of the carriage, staring in horror as the darkness lights up in flashes. Images, faces, and voices. Creatures that he can't name, visions of monsters that must have haunted the steps of those who came long before. Giant wandering things that move and shift in the darkness, or stare in his direction with glowing eyes more like lights. And all he can do is cling to a bar by the door, as the whole world shakes.

There's another screeching sound, the rails grinding, before he's yelping.

People are shouting, the announcement is repeating and he's...

He's falling.

Not far, just to the floor of the carriage, but it's a shock. Abruptly, there's a rush of wind, a howling sound as the door of the carriage is ripped away. Again the world shudders and while they're still in the darkness he can only look up sockets wide in terror as something reaches in.

He can't back away, he can't run, there's nothing he can do.

He's pulled out...

And falling.


End file.
